Wedding Waltz for Piano
by Chibieska
Summary: "Do not expect me to cry if you die." Elizaveta said. "I'm going to die so easy. Besides, a married woman should not cry for another man."


Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu

Title: Wedding Waltz for Piano

Notes: (1) This is a ficcional work, elements of the original work can be altered for better compatibility with this story.

(2) English is not my first language, sorry my grammar.

I hope you enjoy!

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The wedding party was over, all guests were gone, and Elizaveta, now Elizaveta Edelstein, had given herself the right to take off her shoes and her wedding veil. Roderich had taken off his suit and walked beside his wife toward the exit.

"What are you doing here?" She stared at the man standing at the door, Gilbert Beilschmidt. "It's my wedding, and nobody invited you."

"I invited," Roderich replied soberly.

"Why?" The bride did not understand, as far she knew Roderich and Gilbert hated each other.

"Consider this a gift." The husband turned away, going to the piano. He adjusted the stool and ran his fingers over the keys, the disorderly noise gradually taking rhythm until it became a waltz.

Elizaveta looked from her husband to the albino in front of her, nothing made sense.

"Shall we?" She offered, not as an invitation to a dance, but in that tone of defiance and rivalry they always wore with each other. Gilbert accepted, with the same tone, and dragged her onto the dance floor.

He was terrible; hours before, she had danced with her husband in front of the guests and the pianist made her dance in clouds. Gilbert had the subtlety of an elephant, stepped on his foot, wraped up the tulle of the wedding dress, stumbled.

"Congratulations for your wedding," he said after another stumble.

"Aren't you the one who thinks it's a waste of time?"

"Certainly, even more with a weak aristocrat like this" his gaze fell on Roderich who was still playing the piano "but it would be rude not to congratulate you."

"As if you cared," she rolled her eyes. "Besides, it's a purely political marriage, everyone knows that."

"Yes," he answered vaguely.

"What's it?"

"He likes you," he said, staring at the pianist. Elizaveta followed his gaze, and she knew that Roderich was not marrying just because it was an interesting political maneuver, not just. His eyes always shone through his glasses every time he saw Liz, long before the wedding was organized. "And I think you like him, too." He turned his red eyes to her.

Elizaveta interrupted the dance. It was not as if she could not fall in love with Roderich, in fact, he was easy to like. But it was strange that Gilbert was telling her these things. When he had known about wedding, he was the first to mock saying that only way for she have a man was with a marriage arranged.

"I'm going to front tomorrow," the albino stared at her. In parts, the marriage of Roderich and Elizaveta had taken place because of the war that plagued Europe. The conflict was getting worse and worse, and hardly anyone came alive from the battlefront. "Roderich thought I should say goodbye. He said I'm a very important part of your life and cannot to be ignored" he tried to make it sound unpretentious, but it did not. Her gaze turned to her husband, concentrated on the piano.

"Is it too much of a pretension of him, and yours, think you are so important in my life?" Gilbert didn't answer. "So, this is a goodbye?" And it was only after she'd uttered those words that she realized how her tone had gone too dark.

"Of course not, I'm going to win and come back in all glory," he smiled ambitiously, "but he thought I should tell you goodbye and I didn't want to displease the groom."

Despite his words of presumption, his eyes were terribly sad. All the memories they shared, all the moments they spent together, all the conflicting feelings, that was their last moment, and they both felt it.

"Do not expect me to cry if you die." Elizaveta struggled with tears that insisted on forming.

"You're not going to need it, it's not like I'm going to die so easy. Besides, a married woman should not cry for another man but her husband."

The two of them stared at each other as the waltz filled the ballroom. There was so much to say, so much to cry about, but none of them would take that step.

"I'd better go, it's your first night as a wife after all." He gave a perverted smile that would make any girl blush, but not her. He turned his back and left the room, but then he stopped the door. "At some point, did you love me?"

It was a low blow, and the tears she had struggled so hard to contain now ran disobediently down her face, blurring the makeup.

"No," she said, and her voice came out more firmly than expected, "but somewhere in the past I met a little boy, and he believed that his penis would grow when he grew up, and that little boy still loves you." Elizaveta wasn't more a warrior, but a lady, and if her noble and feminine side could not love Gilbert, her other side would always love for him.

"What a coincidence," he had a childish smile that Liz did not remember seeing before. "I, too, fell in love with that weird kid. And I still love him," there was a different glow in his reddish eyes and with a nod, Gilbert left.

The piano notes ceased, and the pianist went to meet the bride. He thought she would give in to tears, but she wiped them away, bringing a delicate smile to her face.

"If you still like him..." Roderich loved her and wanted to see her happy, even if it meant giving her to his rival.

"You heard, a little boy from my past loved him."

"But..."

"Roderich, I am your wife, and I chose this." She stared at him. "I love you, so accept!"

And if Elizaveta could accept that her destiny was not to be with Gilbert, Roderich could accept that she truly liked him.

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Thank you for reading.

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